


But Also, Everything.

by Nehesemhotep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehesemhotep/pseuds/Nehesemhotep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt- Lazy Sunday-</p>
<p>After episode 10X03 Soul Survivor</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Also, Everything.

        Dean yawned and stretched.  Stared at the ceiling of the room. His room. Even though they’d been at the bunker a while, it still was strange at times to remember they had their own place.  A home. Sometimes a little too quiet, which is why it was nice Cas had stuck around this time.  Ever since Dean had been cured, both Sam and Cas walked on eggshells around him.  And Cas barely looked him in the eye some days.  Dean wondered if it was because he still saw the demon, the monster he really was inside. It was never Sam who was the monster.  

        The more Cas avoided looking him in the eye, the more Dean sought him out; to touch, an arm on the shoulder, a ruffle of the hair, a tap on the arm.  It was like Dean wanted Cas to either push him away, leave, confirm his fears, or...to return something, _anything_.  Being around Cas all the time, _hurt_. Dean just wanted it to end-one way or the other.  Sam had told him how bad Cas had gotten without his own grace. He told Dean that he didn’t think he would have lived much longer. Dean had asked Cas what would have happened when the grace ran out.  Cas hadn’t answered.

        Dean strained his ears. Sam must have taken the rare occasion to sleep in.  It was a Sunday, after all. Not that the name of the day really mattered to them.  Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and groaned. The little aches and pains were reminders that Dean had lived longer than many other hunters.  And the whispers of nightmares as he woke, reminders that he had lived much longer than his actual age.

        He was, as Cas once said, “entitled” to an occasional emotional, existential crisis or two.  The hallways of the bunker were bare, and the library neatly tidied up.  This was Dean’s first indication that Cas was probably awake.  He didn’t need to sleep, of course, but it seemed to help with the whole borrowed grace thing if he shut his human body down for small periods of time.  Frowning, Dean reached the end of the hallway. No Cas.  Shaking his head, he trotted back to and up the stairs. As he guessed, when he opened the door to the bunker, Cas was visible in the distance, walking between the trees

        “Cas!”  Dean strode toward him. Cas inclined his head slightly, indicating that he heard Dean, but he stayed standing in front of a large oak tree, his hand resting upon it like he was checking for it’s soul.  As he grew near, Dean saw Cas’ face was pensive, brow furrowed just slightly.  His trenchcoat moved slowly in the breeze, and Dean wondered again why he still wore that coat.  

_It wasn’t even the same one I had kept for him_ , Dean thought bitterly.  Of course, Cas had been human, on the streets at the time, trying not to get killed.  That was Dean’s fault, too.  When Dean had offered Cas other clothes, he refused.  One night when they were watching a movie, Dean had turned to see Cas had taken off his coat, shirt sleeves rolled up and a slight smile on his face.  Dean couldn’t stop staring as his heart swelled, watching the angel so relaxed for once.  Cas had turned to Dean and his smile broadened, “I like this movie.” Dean swallowed hard, but managed to choke out,  “Me too.”

        Dean tapped Cas on the shoulder, whose hand remained on the bark of the tree.  “Cas.”  

        “Anna’s grace would have formed a tree,” Cas murmured, fingers running over the ridges of the lines and lingered along a gash in the wood that may have been from a deer’s antler.

        “What?”  Dean looked up and down the tree, recalling Anna’s voice when she told them her grace was gone, that someone had taken it.  

        “I wonder,” Cas looked to Dean, almost wary, then sighed, “I was thinking of what my grace might have done, if I still had it. And if I would cut it out and through it to the arms of the earth like she did.”

        Dean paused, trying to follow, “Why would you cut out your grace, Cas?  And you have grace now, right? Don’t you need your grace to live?”

        Cas pulled away from the tree, looking Dean straight in the eyes, “Without grace, I would simply be human again. Yes, if I try to wear out this...borrowed grace, and wait too long, the light would tear my being from existence, and I would be nothing, but,”  Cas looked down suddenly, placing his hands in his pockets and seeming to shrink,

        “But if I retrieve my grace, and become immortal and true- if some of my grace still remains, that is-then I would live all through your life and past it. And….” Cas paused, eyes still drawn down, voice growing unusually quiet, although it didn’t waver, “I don’t know if I want immortality without you, Dean.  Without my grace, I am nothing. But also, everything.”  

        Cas looked up at Dean again, blue eyes vulnerable and a little angry and desperate, and always, always, concerned. Like Dean was the most important thing even when he was dying.  Dean could hardly breathe.  Dean always realized he couldn’t survive without his brother. But for years now he knew he couldn’t live without Cas, too.  He hated to admit it, because it was terrifying to think Cas could even leave him for real.  He always came back, defying everything.  To think that Cas might not really come back.  Dean shuddered.  Cas must have taken his silence for disapproval, because he started to turn and walk away, shoulders hunched in.

        “Wait! Cas.”  Dean nearly tumbled over his feet and grabbed Cas’s arm.  Cas’ head turned and Dean was devastated to see wetness at the edges.  Slowly, Dean raised one hand and placed his palm on Cas’ cheek softly. His hand was shaking, and at that gentle touch a tear slipped from Cas’ eye.  With a harsh breath in, Dean raised his other hand and cupped Cas’ face in his hands.  He leaned forward and they touched foreheads, Dean’s eyes closed and he breathed in Cas, heard his hitching breaths and the warmth of the puffs of air on his lips.  Dean didn’t know how long they stood like that.  Dean felt hands encircle his wrists, supporting, asking, forgiving, loving.  Dean opened his eyes and saw pure love in Cas’ eyes. It was suddenly easy to close the final distance in a soft kiss.  

        “Cas,” Dean whispered against his lips, “I’d rather have you.”

 


End file.
